Chapter Text
The first time it happened, Sasuke had been dragging his body from the east training ground back to his chamber. A few months after leaving Konoha, the training wasn’t getting any easier, but finding his way around was, at least. Getting lost was not his idea of fun, or training, but Orochimaru insisted that it was survival training and that was never wasted. Sasuke would beg to disagree, but most days, he didn’t have the energy to speak. Nor the want. Nor the need. If anything, it did train him to conceal his chakra better.
He noticed the mark as he bandaged his burned hand, a little black spiral right in the middle of his palm. He scrubbed it with soap and water, but the persistent mark remained.
A few weeks later, it was joined by another one in his other hand. Same color. Same spiral. That one too, remained etched on his skin, catching his eyes whenever he was distracted, whenever he wasn’t careful. If he stared too long, the spiral morphed into Konoha’s symbol, and that alone gave him enough energy to push another burst of lightning out of his palm.
Another month, and the lightning was spreading across his arm, spiking out of his skin in tiny needles. Sometimes, it numbed him, but that didn’t matter; sometimes, he heard Kabuto snickering that he would become a porcupine, but that didn’t matter either. He would turn into a snake if that’s what it took. Another month, and his katana was no longer a weapon, but an extension of his arm.
He lost track of the months. He forgot about the little marks on his palm, faded and forgotten. He lost count of how many days he spent out in the rain, drenched to the bone, willing his chakra to fly across the sky and into the clouds to call lightning from them, only to be rewarded with a cold. He lost count of his fevers, and lost count of the needles someone shoved into him to make him feel better.
It didn’t matter how many people he knocked out. It didn’t matter how many times he listened to Orochimaru’ lecture about killing people and getting it over with--it didn’t matter how many jutsus the man tried to keep from him as motivation to murder. There was only one person he was going to kill--besides, he had the Sharingan. It wasn’t like he couldn’t just steal the jutsus.
It wasn’t like Orochimaru wasn’t letting him steal them. It was an intricate arrangement, the jutsus promised or withheld, in exchange of missions.
One mission took him to the northern side of the Land of Lightning, only agreeing to go for the possibility of using one of those naturally occuring thunderstorms to finally draw his own lightning from the sky. It was reaching, he knew, but he’d lost count of the times that he’d simply passed out from chakra exhaustion, and he needed to make progress. The mission was a simple one, some infiltration, some stealing--nothing too difficult. Completed in less than a day. Enough time to spare some experimentation with the clouds.
Time passed fast there, and the leaps of improvement were memorable. But unless he could draw Itachi Uchiha into the Land of Lightning, and predict where the lightning would strike, it would do little to kill him, even if he could now use his eyes to track the lightning accurately enough to infuse some chakra into it before it stroke the ground.
And he couldn’t stay there. Not forever. Orochimaru would hunt him down, and Sasuke wasn’t entirely sure how open the man would remain about letting him roam around unsupervised.
But he knew how thunderclouds formed, and that, Sasuke could work with. He scribbled warm air on his forearm, covered it up, and left to find shelter from the storm.
And that’s when his trouble began.
He found a waterfall on the way back. A nice clearing to practice the Great Fireball Technique, to speed it up, to build enough chakra in his lungs to increase its size. He would need enough to warm the air, fast enough to create a thundercloud overhead; he couldn’t predict when a thunderstorm would happen, but he could force one. He would. He just needed to train, some practice, and maybe, he realized, a little luck. He lost track of time, until he couldn’t physically lift his arms anymore, at which point, there was nothing else to do than try to relax.
As he was dipping into the water, he caught the words, large and ugly scratched across his arm, the words his exact sentiment at that moment.
What the fuck?!
It took less than a second for his memory to (un)helpfully provide where he’d seen that handwriting before--the great wonders of the Sharingan, he supposed. He shoved his hand under the water and began to scrub furiously as the days with the stubborn spirals came rushing back to his memory. The words didn’t go away, wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he scrubbed. He should have paid more attention to the spirals, to figure out the time it took for them to disappear, so at least he could know when he’d be freed of the forsaken words. The spirals had been easy to hide, with the excuse of globes, but--well, he could bandage his arm.
And refuse to take them off in the monthly check-up? Of course, he could just pretend he’d written it themselves, as a way to let some...frustration out? He didn’t like the idea that anyone under Orochimaru would consider that he was frustrated about anything. Besides, that idiot’s handwriting was atrocious, and Sasuke simply, would not, could not pretend that it was his own handwriting.
Bandages it was, then. And then he could put more of his energy trying to figure out exactly why someone could write on his skin. And not just anyone, but--he shook his head, the tree branch faltering under his step. He couldn’t catch a break, could he? That idiot.
Logically, he knew that Naruto, in all likelihood, didn’t know what was going on. The three words etched onto his arm said as much, at least, and--and at least, if he never wrote anything on himself, Naruto would have no reason to write on himself either. Not the best plan, but it was the only thing he could come up with as he approached the hideout entrance, and he carefully kept his face blank.
He was later than anticipated, and although Orochimaru made an effort to redirect his displeasure with Sasuke onto other people--the asshole--it had been made abundantly clear that late returns from missions were less than ideal. Sasuke understood, he too, he supposed, would be pissed off if his supposed body decided to deflect. If he was as sick as Orochimaru, of course.
He walked to the main chambers, keeping his pace steady, but quick. Pretending that he didn’t give a single fuck about keeping Orochimaru waiting was easy because, mostly, he didn’t give a fuck, but his chakra’s levels were dangerously low and he’d rather catch a break, rather than have an improvised training session with--a man that was too powerful and who, despite all his yearning, Sasuke could not defeat. Yet. One day. Preferably sooner than later.
“Ah, Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru began, with that annoying slimmy voice of his. “So nice of you to join us. I was just getting Karin ready to find out if you were in trouble.”
Another way of saying that he was about ready to send someone to hunt him down. Sasuke glanced at the girl standing in front of Orochimaru, with a bright, red hair cascading down her back, and glasses matching the color.
“Hn,” Sasuke said, slipping the scroll he’d been sent to retrieve and tossing it at Orochimaru. Sadly, it did not hit him in the face.
“Well?”
Sasuke did his best not to roll his eyes. Flat face. “Well, what?” He asked, ignoring the small, offended gasp coming form the girl.
“I need a verbal report, Sasuke-kun. You’re two days late.”
He shrugged, “decided to take in the scenery. What does it matter? I got you the scroll.”
“Well, shinobi take missions and then report how it went to their Kage, that’s how it works.”
He shouldn’t have, of course. “If I wanted to report to a Kage, I would have stayed in Konoha.”
The girl gasped again, but Sasuke wrote her off, his eyes all too focused on the way that Orochimaru shifted in the seat. “Well, then, I should take some time to remind you why you left Konoha, shouldn’t I?”
Sasuke refused to pass out, not out of pride, that had been stripped away about two hours ago, but because he could not pass out with Naruto’s hand writing on his arm, no matter how many bandages were hiding it. He doubted that Orochimaru could recognized that idiot’s handwriting, but Kabuto had been in those damn Chunin exams, and could have seen it, and well, Sasuke just couldn’t risk it. Obviously, he wasn’t in cahoots with that idiot, but Orochimaru could be a little...irrational. But not passing out was different than fighting, and--to his complete disgust, he couldn’t do much of that either.
He landed face down, feeling the curse mark receding, the spot on his neck burning as it did everytime Sasuke used it after depleting his own chakra.
Orochimaru clicked his tongue. “See, Sasuke-kun, months here, and Konoha’s ineptitude is still buried in your bones.”
Sasuke would have screamed, but he was already immobile, and Orochimaru was right. It had been months, and the only thing he had managed to do was avoid some of his attacks and not faint every time he went onto Level Two. It was pathetic.
“Oh, well.” His voice grated on Sasuke’s ears. “Karin, go ahead and give him a hand,” he chuckled. “Sasuke-kun, when you feel better tomorrow, I do expect a verbal report.”
His footsteps faded and Sasuke should have really, really seen the smugness coming. He pushed himself off the ground, landing on his butt as the girl rushed to him. She lifted her sleeve revealing an arm full of bite marks.
“Bite, quick.” She sounded as old as he did.
“ What ?”
There was a faint blush across her cheeks, but Sasuke didn’t have the energy to roll his eyes. “Bite. It’ll replenish your chakra.”
Another one of Orochimaru’s creepy experiments, then. But without a second thought, he obeyed. His ears registered a whimper, but he was too focused on his chakra channels flowing again. Soon, even the soreness in his muscles eased away. Creepy, but useful. “Thanks,” he spitted out, standing up, surprised that the room didn’t spin.
“You’re welcome, Sasuke-kun,” Karin replied, still with the blush on her cheeks. “I hope you feel better, but you shouldn’t talk to Orochimaru-sama like that. It’s not--”
“Mind your own business,” Sasuke said, stalking out the room.
And if the next morning, he showed up back in the main room, carefully detailing every day of his mission, it was because he had some common sense, and not because of that girl’s stupid suggestion, or warning. But it worked, it appeased Orochimaru and instead of spending the rest of the morning humiliating Sasuke and pointing out his lack of ability, he sent him to Kabuto.
Poison immunity.
Kabuto, in his opinion, was worse than Orochimaru. While Orochimaru ran sick experiments that caused too much pain for everyone involved, it often looked like he was genuinely curious about the result; Kabuto, though, looked like the results were just a byproduct of the pain inflicted on others. That and his annoying habit to bring up Konoha and every idiot who lived there made him a thousand times more annoying than Orochimaru.
“I would do this in smaller doses, normally,” Kabuto said, as he wrapped an elastic around Sasuke’s biceps, tightening it, Sasuke suspected, more than necessary. “But Miss. Uzumaki is here, and it’ll be a waste to let the opportunity go, don’t you think so, Sasuke-kun?”
Uzumaki ? Miss . Uzumaki ? Sasuke was sure he had not heard right. And even if he had, he was confident that his expression didn’t betray him, he didn’t even glance down at his freed arm, the words still there, like a permanent, annoying tattoo. The other annoying thing about Kabuto, one of the many, was that he liked to make a show about how much he knew and how little Sasuke knew--made a show that he too, was Orochimaru’s favorite, like that was something to brag about. He leveled him with a look, watching as the needle was brought up to his arm, golden drops spilling from it.
“Not much for talking today?” Kabuto continued, “I don’t blame you. I’d be rather quiet too, if I had my ass handed to me by Orochimaru-sama; of course, I’m not an idiot like you, Sasuke-kun, so that wouldn’t happened.”
The needle went in, spreading scorching heat along his arm. “Fuck off,” he said, feeling the warmth travel across his chest, down his other arm, engulfing him. It must be what been scorched in a Great Fireball felt like, but he refused to scream. He’d bite his tongue off before giving Kabuto the satisfaction. In the distance, he heard the door opening.
“Karin, you’re just in time,” Kabuto said. Approaching footsteps. And then, the same girl as yesterday came into view. Karin seemed to know the drill, lifting her sleeve up and bringing her arm close to Sasuke’s lips. Sasuke was about to bite down when Kabuto pulled the arm away. “Hold on, the effects haven’t taken place.”
They hadn’t? Fuck. It had to be a joke. Bite off his tongue. Bite it off, better than screaming.
“How do you know, Kabuto-san?” Karin asked, her voice sounded so much like every other stupid girl he’d ever met.
“Because he hasn’t started screaming yet.”
Sasuke couldn’t bring his eyes to look up, but he could picture the satisfied smile on that bastard’s face, smug in anticipation--but he wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He refused. His resolved faltered somewhat when he saw the needle with the same golden liquid, poison , hovering over his face, and then a prick on his right arm, and then again, the fire burning his bones. The third time, he dug his nails into the wooden armrest, and maybe, that was enough for Kabuto, because he was allowed to bite on Karin’s arm, barely registering the soft whimper, barely registering Kabuto’s sickening voice as he talked about the Uzumakis wonderful skills.
He didn’t pass out, but his brain was too foggy to began considering what those words even meant. And when he came back to himself, Karin had gone back to the eastern hideout, and Sasuke was left to ponder Kabuto’s words in his free time. He didn’t have a lot of free time, and the time that he did have, he’d rather not spend it thinking about a weird girl and Kabuto’s stupid, annoying words.
And he managed to push them aside for the most part. Until one morning. List of Top Ramen in Iwagakure . On his right hand. The names weren’t numbered, but the list of shops went down to his elbow, presumably, the continuation bleeding onto his left hand. It had to be some sick joke. He sat down on the floor, staring at his hands, drawing in breaths to center himself. He absolutely could not reach for ink and scribble a message back to that idiot to cut it out because then he’d run the risk of Naruto, or someone smarter than him, catching up, no matter how much he wanted to do that. But--
“Good morning, Sasuke-kun,” the door opened, revealing Kabuto. Sasuke’s reflexes were fast enough to turn his arms away from view. “Orochimaru-sama has a mission for you, hurry up. It doesn’t look like you should keep him waiting.”
Sasuke stared until the door closed again and he heard faded footsteps. He glanced down, the list, at least, looked like it was done. Okay. Gloves and...long sleeves? He changed, soon heading to the main room. There was a body on the floor when he entered, a sight he’d grown accustomed to, one that did not twist his stomach anymore. Though it should. That was a human life lost, only because Orochimaru threw a tantrum. He caught the mission scroll Orochimaru tossed him.
“Bring him back,” Orochimaru said. No Sasuke-kun? He was in a foul mood. “Karin is waiting on the outskirts for you, she’ll hunt him down.”
Usually, Sasuke would make a point to just walk out without a thought or motion that he understood or agreed, but he could feel Orochimaru’s chakra engulfing the entire room, not unlike their first meeting in the Forest of Death, and Sasuke did have some self-preservation still on him, so he nodded.
He read the scroll as he left the hideout. A runaway experiment, no name, obviously, but apparently, it was crucial that the subject did not reach a large body of water. Right. Well...at least he would be out of prying eyes and by the time he returned, maybe that stupid list would fade away,
Karin was waiting for him, and it took him only a moment to realize why she was coming along--a sensor. And a fast one at that. Sasuke let her set the pace, mostly because he had no idea where they were going, but because he could stare with confidence that she didn’t have literal eyes in the back of her head. Kabuto’s information was hardly trustworthy, but he had a pressing issue that involved another Uzumaki, and if the red-haired girl was the only connection he had, he would use his resources. Gather information to try and determine if it was Naruto’s fault, or--his own fault.
Stupid. It was probably that idiot’s fault.
“What is your last name?” If he had to talk, he might as well cut to the chase.
Karin halted on a tree branch, turning to look at him when he landed next to her. “Uzumaki,” she said. Her eyes closed for a moment, her eyes furrowing, before she was leaping in another direction. Sasuke followed her, staying by her side this time.
He was sure that Naruto was the only Uzumaki he ever heard of, an orphan, clanless. Were his ancestors not from Konoha then? Or was Karin in it with Kabuto, just trying to mess with him, trying to prove some convulated point to their precious Orochimaru-sama ? Of course--there was the fact that Karin seemed to heal other people, and the last fight with Naruto made it abundantly clear that he could heal himself disturbingly, unfairly fast.
“Kabuto-san said that your teammate was an Uzumaki too,” Karin said. “I didn’t think there were any left.”
Remembering that Kabuto was the one who brought all this up made him more suspicious still, but--but he didn’t have anything else to go on, and he needed to find away to stop Naruto’s writing from appearing on his skin. When he left Konoha, he’d made sure that was the last he’d seen of every single one of them and he needed it to stay that way, which meant he had to resolve his stupid problem.
“He said he cared a lot about you,” Karin said, stealing a glance that she probably considered quick, but it just reminded him of the way that Sakura used to look at him. Great. At least, Karin was a little more useful. Much more useful. And at this point, he did need her. “I don’t blame him, Sasuke-kun.”
Sasuke bit back a retort and kept quiet, letting the silence consume them, hoping that it would prompt more information, but the only thing that it prompted was more giggles and Sasuke-kun s. Just what he needed. He almost killed one Uzumaki, only to find himself saddled with another one.
“If he gets to water, we’ll lose him,” Karin said, the branch almost breaking off under the pressure of her chakra.
Over the past hours, Sasuke had realized that Karin wasn’t as much of an airhead as he’d originally believed; the observation made sense, if she had been, Orochimaru wouldn’t have send her with him, wouldn’t have even kept her alive. As it turned out, if she was talking about Orochimaru, or about the mission, she didn’t seem to have the need to gush over him, so it wasn’t a difficult choice to make: either make conversation or submit himself to endless, futile glances accompanied by emberassing face coloration.
“How do you know?” He asked, deciding that he could swallow his pride. He was familiar with Orochimaru’s prisoners and if the runaway was important enough to retrieve him, rather than kill him, then he would prefer to be prepared.
“He escaped from my post,” Karin replied, a thick layer of annoyance strung on her voice. Clearly, she was more useful than Sasuke could even imagine--if she was still alive, or not locked up herself. “That idiot is made out of water, so you can imagine how difficult it will be to bring him back if he gets inside an ocean.” There was a lot to unpack, but over time, Sasuke had learned not to ask questions, aloud or to himself. “But I’ll find him. He’s too slow on land and I have his chakra signature locked; I’ll bring him back to Orochimaru-sama. With your help, of course, Sasuke-kun.”
“Hn.” That killed the conversation, but the glances started soon after. “How does tracking work?” He knew the basics, of course, especially considering the Hyuga’s abilities, and he knew that he was generally awful at it, that had become abundantly clear when he was left in a maze for two weeks without being able to find the exit, but there was nothing wrong with educating himself.
Karin giggled, making Sasuke regret ever asking, but she calmed herself down a second later. It would have been impressive, if it wasn’t so annoying. “Well, everyone has a different chakra signature--”
“I know.”
Another giggle. “Of course, Sasuke-kun. Some people can see it and other people can hear it. I can feel it, small waves off of anything that the person touched. Orochimaru-sama, for example, has spikes instead, it crackles, it used to be deep purple, but it’s turned somewhat blue since I was last here. Kabuto-san’s barely visible, a lime color. That idiot’s, unsurprisingly, is blue and it sticks to everything it touches. It’s a little disgusting--”
“And mine?”
Karin looked at him, but not like the last hundred of times. She looked serious, as her eyes trailed over him, staying a few more seconds on his arms. “A faint purple mixed with orange...maybe a little red, it looks like something is trying to blur away the blue...it happens a lot to people with the curse seals.”
Orange? Karin’s words provided some explanation, a rather acceptable one, but Sasuke couldn’t shake away the memory of Naruto and that gigantic...tail. He glanced down at his arms, before leaping after Karin. Had--had their chakra mixed? Could chakra even mix with another? He’d never heard of anything like that happening, but he’d never heard of anyone able to manifest a physical, demonic form either, so the prospect couldn’t be that farfetched. He’d also never heard of anyone being able to write on someone’s skin from kilometers away. “Why don’t you have a cursed mark?”
The sigh was long. “Not special enough.”
Not special enough to brand, but special enough to keep alive. “And you have to see the person before you can start tracking their chakra?”
“Most times,” Karin replied, halting on a branch. Sasuke had enough foresight to side-step her. “If the chakra is similar enough, like siblings, or parents, it might work without seeing the person directly.” She threw a kunai and if his Sharingan hadn’t intuitively flared up, he would have missed the way the intended target’s head turned into water, and then formed again, like nothing happened. Creepy, but clearly useful.
“Karin, move,” he said, going over the familiar hand signs, concentring his chakra on his chest, and letting the fire burst out. Expectantly, the fire evaporated when it crashed against a water wall, but the vapor was the cover he needed to throw two senbon out, laced with lightning. He landed next to Karin, watching the body...unmoving, petrified.
“Sasuke-kun, you’re so cool!”
That was an unnecessary squeal, but Sasuke let it go, picking the runaway instead and tossing him over the shoulder. “Let’s go,” he told her, leaping to the nearest branch.
They traveled towards the east, opposite to the main hideout. It had been considerably easy to convince Karin; it wouldn’t make sense to meet Orochimaru, only to transport back the prisoner. Besides, the east hideout was the closest to Suna, the driest one. When they stopped for the night, for no one’s benefit, it was a little too easy to knock her out with a tiny genjutsu; Sasuke was beginning to see how someone would have been able to slip pass her, but Karin hadn’t given him the impression that she had a crush on the prisoner.
Sasuke watched him carefully, before dumping water on him, his other hand covering his mouth. One last glance confirmed that Karin was unconscious, but he layered another genjutsu on top, just to be safe. She clearly had a crush on him, but she was clearly devoted to Orochimaru, too, and he didn’t need prying ears or eyes at the moment.
He turned his attention back to the guy, about his age too--unsurprising, he supposed, Orochimaru did seem to have a strange obsession with teenage boys. He remained unmoving, but if eyes could kill--which they could, at least the Sharingan could--he would be dead. “How did you escape?”
“Fuck off, Oro-pet.”
He’d heard the nickname before, enough times to keep his face blank, despite how it grated on his nerves. “Water makes it easier to travel?”
“Fuck off.”
He glanced at his right arm, not having checked whether or not that idiotic list was still there, but having a feeling that it was. “I’ll let you go,” he said. “But I need you to get something for me.”
“Fuck off.” But it didn’t sound as angry as the previous one.
“Or you can remain paralyzed until Orochimaru gets his hands on you.”
“What do you want me to steal?”
So, his interrogation and persuasive skills were not the best, he was much better at knocking opponents out, but he was getting somewhere. He couldn’t blame him; hardly anyone managed to escape, but the ones who did and were recaptured? It didn’t end well for them. Sasuke had never planned to run away, per se, but the consequences of doing so and being recaptured were enough to deter even him.
“A...rock,” he said, not quite open to calling it by its name. “It’s in Konoha, underneath the Naka Shrine.”
“Why?”
Sasuke would have raised an eyebrow, if he had the care or energy, or hadn’t spend the last year keeping his face blank. “Nostalgia,” he replied.
“Does Orochimaru know how much you miss your old home? Are you ready to betray him yet?”
“I’m not betraying him,” Sasuke replied, his tone passive. “I just need something from Konoha; if I were betraying him, I would knock you out, go to Konoha myself, and drop you off at his doorstep.” If Konoha ever let him leave--although, he couldn’t imagine it would be harder to desert Konoha than it would be to desert Orochimaru.
“If I agree, I can just run away,” the guy said, laughing. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
He was. But the orange chakra was unsettling, the handwriting was unsettling, it was driving him insane, slowly, but annoyingly steady. What if Naruto fell asleep one day and someone decided that he needed a taste of his own medicine and decided to play a prank on him by writing something across his stupid forehead? He would have written something across Naruto’s stupid forehead, if given the opportunity, and he couldn’t be the only one annoyed by that stupid face. So, logically, there were plenty of people who would take that opportunity, and Naruto was a heavy sleeper, so it left him open to the opportunity. Sasuke just couldn’t risk that. And the truth was that he didn’t know much about the Mangekyou, and if attempting to get it had...caused this, then the scriptures were the only logical step to pursue. It was the Naka Shrine, or...hunting down Itachi Uchiha to have an open and candid conversation about the Sharingan--which would never happen. His options were a bit on the short end of the issue, unfortunately.
“When you get caught, I’ll help you escape, again. But if you betray me, we’ll still find you, and I’ll make sure you never leave.”
“Throw in a gift and I might consider it.”
Logically, he should not be pursuing this, of course, should not be demonstrating how desperate he was, but he couldn’t exactly waltzed into Konoha himself--not just because he’ll be detained the moment he did, but because, on the chance that he made it out, Orochimaru would...reconsider a couple of things. Sasuke didn’t want to end up in a cage too, waiting for the day that Orochimaru took over his body, without the possibility of defending himself. He didn’t have plans after killing Itachi, but the Sharingan was too special to land in the hands of Orochimaru, or anyone like him. “What do you want?”
The toothy smirk made him look like a shark. “That’s a pretty sword you have--”
“ No ,” he said, firmly. But--thinking of Konoha did draw certain memories to the surface, and...somehow, Naruto had convinced everyone that leaving Zabuza’s sword unattended was a great idea. Hadn’t he? At the top of a mountain, in that tiny town with the bridge named after him. That idiot. “But I’ll help you find a better one--”
“Unless it’s Zabuza Momochi’s, I’m not interested.”
“It is.”
The guy stared at him, his eyes narrowing, “how do you know where it is?”
“None of your business,” he replied, curtly. “Are you interested, or do you want me to knock you out again?”
“Fine. I’ll do it, I’ll bring that stupid rock that you need and when I hand it over, you’ll tell me where Zabuza’s sword is, and we’ll never cross paths again.”
And that’s how Sasuke ended up carrying him, Suigetsu apparently, to the nearest river. He watched him disappear, melt into the water, and then he hurried back, exerting a body chidori, cutting a couple of trees, and generally making it seem like there had been a rather involved fight, his chakra levels just enough to rearrange some of Karin’s memories, hopefully well enough that the trails of chakra they left behind would make sense.
-----
“It seems I’m not understanding what happened,” Orochimaru said, the words slipping through his lips like it was costing a great deal of energy to remain sitting on the gigantic chair with the snake heads sprouting from the armrests, instead of attacking either one of them.
“The prisoner slipped through,” Sasuke said, trying to keep the correct amount of annoyance in his tone. Not enough to get...Karin killed obviously--it wasn’t her fault, after all, and he didn’t want more blood on his hands that didn’t deserve to be there--but enough to pretend that it was an annoying inconvenience. “Made it to a river--”
“Let me repeat what I’m hearing,” Orochimaru said, his eyes moving from Karin to Sasuke, maintain his composure much better than Sasuke would have thought possible, or probable. “I sent you two to get him back for me, but Suigetsu was just too smart and strong for both of you? Together? At the same time?”
Karin was looking down at the floor; Sasuke could feel the fear and shame radiating from her. “He took us by surprise, Orochimaru-sama--”
“Must have been quite a surprise,” Orochimaru replied. “Karin, find him. Again. I don’t care if it takes the entire year, I want him back.”
“Yes, Orochimaru-sama, I won’t fail this time,” she said, bowing. Without another word, she left the main room, retreating footsteps quickly fading. Valuable enough not to kill again .
Sasuke kept his eyes on Orochimaru, willing the Sharingan to remain inactivated. The last thing he needed was to threaten him right now, if only because that stupid ramen list was still there last he checked, and he didn’t need to create more trouble for himself. Over the months, Sasuke realized that most of what Orochimaru did came down to his presence, the fear that he could instill in people before he even opened his mouth or moved; it was an effective strategy, there was nothing worse than someone’s own imagination. Layering a genjutsu on himself had been catastrophic the first thousands of times, but he’d finesse the ability over the months enough to get himself through most of Orochimaru’s...mood swings.
“How do you expect to kill Itachi if you can’t even fight a prisoner that hasn’t seen combat in two years?”
Months ago, he would have curled his fists and tried to punch him. In a few years, he might try that again--preferably, actually landing a few hits. But for now, he stared, ignoring his quickened pulse. “I intent to kill Itachi, not bring him unharmed back to you.”
“Sasuke-kun, we’ve talked about this. If you don’t practice killing, you’re going to freeze up when it happens--”
Wrong . Sasuke was going to kill that man, even if it meant dying too--he’d blow them both up, if that’s what it took. A bomb couldn’t possibly be hard to mess up. But in the meantime, he wasn’t killing anyone. He didn’t want to kill anyone, unnecessary, or cruelly. That would just be like him, and Sasuke wasn’t his brother. “I doubt it.”
“But don’t worry. I have just the thing,” Orochimaru stood up; Sasuke remained rooted on the spot, although he couldn’t help but watch the man with some reservation. “As your teacher, you know I’m interested in helping you improve, Sasuke-kun.”
Sasuke followed him, out the room, down three corridors and two staircases, until they stood in front of dungeons. Obviously, every village had their own prisoners; traitors, like himself, or dangerous rouge ninja from other villages, invaders--keeping prisoners was required if peace, whatever that meant, was to be maintained. But...Orochimaru’s prisoners were poor people from neighboring villages, powerless to defend themselves; most of them were grown men and women, children often easily impressionable and more likely to join the ranks.
He stepped inside, too used to the smell to react outwardly. The last time he’d been down here, Kabuto was working on destroying pain receptors...and had been wildly unsuccessful.
Once he realized that Orochimaru was waiting on something, he bit out, “what?”
Orochimaru waved at the cells in front of them. “Practice, Sasuke-kun. It’ll be useful, just like training.”
He stared at the cells. At least twenty men, draped in torned, old clothes were in each one, sitting down, laying down, all of them too weak to remain standing. Some of them, the ones who must have been there longer, had protruding cheekbones, and prominent collarbones, as the skin was slowly sucked into their bones from lack of food. None of them were looking at them, their heads facing the wall, or their eyes staring at the ground.
“Sasuke-kun, it’s important. Every shinobi kills.”
Not people who hadn’t done anything wrong. Or...shinobi did kill anyone they were ordered to murder, but he wasn’t going to do it. He closed his eyes, opening them slowly, his surroundings adjusting to the Sharingan, faster than they once had. Still no one turned to look at them. There were, upon closer inspection, twenty-seven men in the cell directly in front of him, and twenty-two in the cell to the right; unreasonable numbers, because those cells shouldn’t be holding more than ten people. Had Orochimaru taken over another town, with its resistors crammed in the cells now? He hadn’t been paying much attention to the political gains over the past months, or years, but by now, people must have fled the nearby areas. No one in their right mind would stay to end up as human guinea pigs. As he concentrated his chakra on his hand, he felt Orochimaru’s eyes on him, sizing him up, but his presence was not as distracting as it had once been, the chirping of birds not as distracting as it had once been either. Just as well. With another burst, he sent out forty-nine strikes, enough current to contract muscles and induce collapses from everyone, but not enough to murder.
He wouldn’t do that.
Ever.
It was unnecessary.
“Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru said, his voice cutting through the fading birds. “Excellent aim. But they are all still alive; I think, once again, you missed the point of the exercise.”
Of course, he would call it an exercise--like human life was a toy to toss out when it became boring or useless. Personally, he didn’t tolerate weak people, not anymore, but there was a difference between the weakness of shinobi and civilian s, and one look at them, Sharingan or not, confirmed that none of them could even feel their chakra, let alone mold it into power. The room became less sharp, but no one was moving still. “Doesn’t Kabuto need them alive?”
Orochimaru guided him out of the dungeons with a firm hand on his shoulder. Somehow, Sasuke didn’t try to shrug it off; he knew better. “So thoughtful. Kabuto will be happy, he’s always been under the impression you don’t like him, Sasuke-kun. Maybe you two will finally be friends, hm? Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Whatever,” Sasuke said. He’d poked his own eyes out before becoming civil with that sadistic medic ; he didn’t care at all about medics, but he was offended on their behalf that someone doing the exact opposite of healing paraded himself under the profession. The hand on his shoulder tightened, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Are you going to train me today, or am I supposed to just keep knocking out your prisoners?”
“Sasuke-kun, you’re so impatient. After losing Suigetsu, I would think that you do need practice knocking out prisoners. Remind me again, how was it that he slipped past you? Surely, lightning can take water, hm?”
“Maybe if your mission scroll had been more detailed, I would have been able to prepare better,” Sasuke replied, turning in the direction of his chambers, but the hand steered him in the opposite direction.
“It’s called improvising, Sasuke-kun; quite a valuable skill.”
“Right,” Sasuke drawled out, “so is that yes on training, or can I go?”
“I was thinking we could play a game for the rest of the day,” Orochimaru began, “it’ll be fun, believe me.”
Sasuke would have to be an idiot to believe anything that came out of his mouth, but he kept that thought carefully away from his face. “Is it going to help me become stronger?” He asked once they were standing outside of the hideout, the air considerably less moist out in the open, the light almost blinding compared to the flickering fire inside. Orochimaru rarely stepped outside--would destroy his alluring personna--but something had to be said by the way he almost faded into the background.
“No,” Orochimaru said. “But it’ll make you faster.”
There was just enough time to activate the Sharingan and leap out of the way before a snake was crashing against the ground. One of Orochimaru’s bigger snakes, too, and--one of Sasuke’s least favorite ones, the one he had to chase and steal venom from before Manda even considered granting him an audience. A second after landing on a tree, the wood fell apart, sucking him inside. Not a genjutsu. Just the tree losing consistency. Fun. Before even putting both feet on the ground, Mizuchi was on him, and Sasuke was moving again. After the third tree disappeared from underneath him, he considered just flying, but he wouldn’t put it pass Orochimaru to simply cut one of his wings, if only to see if they could grow back. Sasuke actually liked flying, it did for a quick get-away and most opponents couldn’t fly without summons. So that was a no to flying. But that only left him leaping from one tree to another, avoiding the hundred snakes and the uneven ground. Considering Itachi fought mostly using genjutsu, being fast wouldn’t exactly give him an advantage, but he understood the exercise for what it was: if Orochimaru wanted to release some...tension by making him run around in circles avoiding poisonous snakes, he would do it. Especially if it meant not trying to repeat his rather implausible story about Suigetsu.
-------------
The Sharingan faded away. Nothing . Letting Suigetsu go, sending him to the Uchiha’s sacred shrine. For nothing. And now, where was he going to leave it? Orochimaru had an annoying habit of going through his quarters whenever he felt like it, and Sasuke might be a traitor to Konoha, might not care about being a traitor, but he wasn’t a traitor to his clan.
He couldn’t keep it. There was nothing useful in the scriptures, nothing to explain why Naruto’s handwriting kept appearing all over his body, anyway. With a sigh, he placed everything in his backpack, strapping his katana across his chest. He closed his bedroom’s door. The hallways was empty, fire flickering on torches. He turned left, heading to the main room. Orochimaru would be there, now, perhaps in a meetings, perhaps not.
There was a meeting. A lord. Orochimaru was listening, but his eyes were fixed on him. Sasuke stood by the door, staring, listening. Apparently, something was stolen. Something special, valuable, something that a lord would gladly pay to recover. Good money.
Good people .
Fucking asshole.
Sasuke continued to refuse to murder anyone, but that lord was a high contender. His face remained passive, for the rest of the meeting. Orochimaru waved the lord away, as his attention dwindled, but not before promising to retrieve the lord’s treasure. In exchange for a few children. Sasuke contained the glare as the lord left the room, a smug look in his eyes.
“Sasuke-kun, barging into meetings is not polite.”
Neither was conspiring to exchange childrens for whatever thing that lord lost. He kept that thought carefully away from his face. “I’m heading out.”
“You’re heading out?”
“Yes,” Sasuke replied.
“Did I assign you a mission?”
Sasuke shook his head. “Just last month you were complaining about me leaving without letting you know. I’m letting you right now.”
“Sasuke-kun, I was telling you,” Orochimaru stood up. “That you needed permission to leave, not to let me know when you were leaving.”
Sasuke swallowed a chuckle, but might have rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I need fresh air. I’ll be back in a week.”
“Sasuke-kun,” Orochimaru said. Sasuke heard footsteps behind him. “I understand you are becoming a teenager, but no, you do not leave without--”
“I’ll go get whatever it is that lord needed.”
“You stood there, listening to the conversation for half an hour, and you don’t know what was stolen?”
Sasuke shrugged. Mostly to shrug off some of Orochimaru’s chakra, but it was a nice show of his attitude and how much he did not give a fuck. “Just marvelling at the thought of someone coming to you asking you to find something that was stolen.” He had no proof, but it would just be like Orochimaru to steal whatever in the first place. That was the kind of slimy shit that Orochimaru liked to do on his free time.
“Someone...misplaced a sword of his.”
Sasuke snorted. “How does someone lose a sword.”
“Last sighting was a week ago, Sasuke-kun.” Orochimaru spun him around, looking more annoyed, more pissed than he’d looked in a long time. He handed him a scroll. “Bring it back. Be back in three days.”
Sasuke glanced down at the scroll. Urg . Whatever. Maybe someone had misplaced it near Konoha--where was the lord from, anyway? Did it matter? He was fast. He could probably sneak into Konoha and then find the goddam sword. Ha. Without a word, he left the room. Left the hideout, reading over the scroll as he settled into a quick pace. It was a sword, apparently a century old. Laced with gold--not particularly practical, but worth it. Uh. Whatever.
By the time he was in the outskirts of Orochimaru’s territory, the sun had been replaced by a full moon. He was no sensor, but he was about ninety percent sure that no one was following him. Which was helpful because no matter how much he tried, he had no idea what he would tell Orochimaru if someone did see him heading to Konoha. He pushed his hair back, picking up the pace.
It was close to three years since he’d deflected. A lot of years to think about the fact that the only reason he managed to deflect was because Konoha was recovering from the Sound invasion. Security would be tighter this time around. Presumably. Ideally. But Konoha always did seem to have a problem with invasion, infiltrators. It didn’t matter, of course. Sasuke could sneak in. And out.
The air grew warmer as he entered Konoha’s outskirts. He picked up the pace. Already half a day lost. He’ll be heading out in another day, of course. The problem was the gates. If only he had the same ability that Suigetsu had, to burst into water, travel through water, and reform down a river. Whatever. At least he’d had the foresight to travel without the Sound’s traditional wardrobe. Orochimaru had a thing about him wearing it. Just one of those things that Orochimaru had about him--probably trying to decide which outfit looked best on his future body.
He halted on a branch, crouching down. He pulled his hood over his face, activating the Sharingan as he spotted three Genins, obviously fresh out of the Academy, and their Jounin instructor, pulling weeds. Those Genin were nonthreatening, of course, but the Jonin could pose a problem. He crouched down, waiting for the Jonin to react to him, but maybe all those hide and seek games with Karin paid off. He retraced his steps, keeping ten miles away from that farm and that team.
But that was the only team that he encountered. Konoha’s security was abysmal, especially after spending so many years with Orochimaru and his paranoia. There were a few close calls, of course, but that’s all that they were. A few Chunin on patrol. One or two Genins training late. Maybe Konoha’s economic downfall continued and all higher-ranked shinobi were out of the village, performing missions.
Entering the Uchiha district was...it was not what he thought it would be like. The air was thicker, but it had to be his imagination. The homes blurred together, but that also was his imagination. He knew that. Buildings did not shift by themselves. Obviously . He walked, taking his time, like he had all the time in the world, like he was not a traitor, would not be tackled by any and all Konoha shinobis who saw him.
But his feet refused to run. He’d run so much when he was younger, rushing home to make it to dinner, but for some reason, it was important to walk. Right now. Taking a deep breath, he sidestepped the main house, his parents’ house. The koi fish were dead. Obviously, had been dead for a long time. He knew that, and yet, there was something burning in the pit of his stomach.
Over the last few years, he’d gone to bed, telling himself, accepting the fact, that he left Konoha for his own good, to have a fighting chance at killing his brother. He hadn’t lost sleep over deserting the village, but--
He had never quite considered how he abandoned the Uchiha, too.
With a sigh, he entered the Naka Shrine, keeping his eyes on the ground. He slipped his backpack off his shoulder, pulling out the stone monument, setting it down on its resting place. He remained standing until his feet hurt. Until his brain caught up with the time. He picked up the backpack, less heavy than before. And left. Up the stairs, out the shrine. The sunlight burned his eyes.
“Sasuke-kun.”
He turned around. Sakura looked older, her outfit darker, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing a Chunin vest, green gloves. Carrying a white flowers. Great . He took a step back. Sakura took a step forward.
She opened her mouth.
“What are you doing?”
She stared at him. Dropped the flowers. Incredible. He actually had less than no time for this. Judging by the position of the sun, it was past noon. That was half of the time allotted for his mission and still, he had not found the sword, had not looked for it, had not the faintest idea of where it would be, where he should start looking for it. And Sakura was staring at him. He turned around.
It would be some time before Sakura got reinforcements. A nice head start. Fuck, what was he going to tell Orochimaru when one of his spies sent word of this ?
“Wait!”
He would absolutely do that. He picked up the pace. Sakura, though, was without a doubt giving chase. Fuck . He halted outside the Uchiha district. At least it was already far from the center of the village, already on the outskirts of it. He turned around, slamming Sakura against the tree. Her body lost consciousness, lulled to sleep, courtesy of the Sharingan. He picked her up, set her on the ground, against the tree.
And sprinted back to Sound.
Orochimaru kept him on a tight leash. Training grounds. Bedroom. Training grounds. Infirmary. Bedroom. Understandably, he returned without a sword, and with rumors flourishing around Orochimaru, whispering of where Sasuke had been. Sasuke denied it at first, having no shame or qualms about doing so, but--
But then, Orochimaru did something to force the memories out of him. Sasuke managed to swallow back the Naka Shrine’s hidden room and Naruto’s magical handwriting, but everything else surfaced. And evidently, the Forest of Death had been a joke preview to Orochimaru’s true fury. It had been impossible to breathe, but he had managed to dodge most of the attacks--not attacking back, of course, because he wasn’t that much of an idiot, but managing to dodge, something that was impossible a few years ago.
So despite the new restrictions on his freedom and the bruises that always littered his body, he was feeling...not terrible.
Until he woke up one morning, a spiral inked on his forehead. He rubbed it, to no avail, just like his palms years ago, just like the Ramen list. He pushed his bangs down. Orochimaru expected him in fifteen minutes, ready to spar. Not an ideal situation--why in the world did Naruto keep drawing those spirals, anyway? What a fucking idiot. He clenched his katana, pressing his hair down.
How stupid would it be if he wet his bangs, to keep the spiral hidden? How would that work, when he was supposed to be sparing with Orochimaru? Why did the stupid spiral look like Konoha’s symbol? As if Orochimaru was not worried that Sasuke would betray him and run back to Konoha.
He stared at himself, biting back a sigh. His bangs were wet, but it did nothing to hide the drawing. Bit back a groan. Took a deep breath and walked out his bedroom. Turned left. Another left. Then, a right. He stood in front of Orochimaru, a Sound shinobi leaving the room, holding a scroll.
“Sasuke-kun. You’re early. I thought you’d be sleeping a little longer.”
He relaxed his jaw. Swallowed something . “I came for a forehead protector.”
Orochimaru looked him over. From his feet to his head, down to his feet again. “Why?”
“I understand that what I did was wrong and I want to make it clear that I hold no loyalty to Konoha,” he said. Swallowed something else. “And any loyalty I have is to you.” Any loyalty he had was to his clan, but he could pretend.
Orochimaru stood up. Paused at the exit. Sasuke followed him down the corridor towards the supply room. It was a long walk, passed thousands of corridors. Orochimaru knew how to keep his valuables safe, after all.
“You’ve been spending more time with Kabuto, have you not?”
He sure had. More often than not, he was on his back, laying on a bed, as Kabuto stitched him, fixed him up. But Orochimaru knew that, so Sasuke could only assume it was a rhetorical question.
“Has he given you lessons on how to stay on my good side?”
Sasuke rolled his eyes. “He has not. I don’t believe Kabuto wants to share those particularly tricks with me.”
“I imagine he does not. Though I imagine that maybe, you should learn them anyway.”
Orochimaru unlocked the door. There were thousand of scrolls lined up against the wall, long and short swords behind glass. A glass cabinet with thousands of containers. This was a room that Sasuke rarely saw, was definitely not allow within five meters of it. Too many precious secrets, a few forbidden jutsus, no doubt. Orochimaru walked to a cabinet, grabbing a forehead protector, and tossing it in his direction.
Sasuke caught it. Turned around. Put it on, tied it behind his head. It’d been so long since he lost the last one, since it dropped next to Naruto, and now because of him, he was branding himself with Orochimaru’s symbol, like he had not been branded years ago anyway. Though this was more accessible for others to view and hopefully, more appeasing to Orochimaru. It was to cover the stupid drawing, but he wouldn’t mind been allowed to walk outside the hideout again.
Orochimaru headed to the kitchens. Filled up a glass with water. Left the kitchens, took a right. Sasuke squinted at the sunlight. He had seen the sun for a few weeks.
“You know what makes your brother such a powerful man, Sasuke-kun?” Orochimaru asked, turning to look at him.
The Mangekyou Sharingan, obviously. But Sasuke was largely sure that Orochimaru had no idea what that was, and he had no desire to divulge such sensitive information to the man who was planning to commandeer his body in a few months.
“Sasuke-kun?”
“His inability to value human life?”
Orochimaru smiled. “There’s nothing to value about human life. I had hoped you would have learned that by now. But no, although it is commendable,” he said, as he swirled the cup in his hand. “It’s his stealth. The subtlety in his attacks. Perhaps even, his polite nature.”
Polite nature ? The man was a homicidal monster. But Orochimaru was too, so maybe to him, Itachi was polite. A disconcerting thought. He raised an eyebrow. “If you’re trying to get me to call you Orochimaru-sama, it’s still not happening.”
“I’m not,” he replied, more easily than necessary. “I’ve let it go. You’re an angsty teenager.” He almost shrugged, but did not, instead swirled the cup again, took a step, shortening the distance between them. “Now, your brother’s movements always have a purpose, but more importantly, are always fluid. There is no wasted energy or effort, and I’m sorry to say, Sasuke-kun, but you have not quite mastered that.”
Sasuke bit his tongue. It was all true. He had not. He snuck around fine. But during fights, he improvised more than planned. At some point, that had not been the case, but it was hard to plan as he fought Orochimaru and slowly, his body and mind adapted to improvising, relaying on the Sharingan for a few seconds’ warning. Fighting for his life, the method had never failed him, but with stronger opponents--Orochimaru, his brother--that didn’t work, wouldn’t work.
With a smile, Orochimaru placed the cup of water on his head. “A few rules, Sasuke-kun. Don’t touch it. Don’t spill it. I’ll try to kill you and you try to kill me. If you fail, Kabuto is waiting for a healthy person to try a couple of new ideas. Questions?”
Sasuke shook his head. He always had good posture. Of course, it didn’t matter when someone running towards him, clearly eighty percent serious about the killing part--the other twenty as a courtesy to his future body. The cup slowed him down, but...it helped him think, at least three steps ahead, just to figure out where he was going to land to prevent it from spilling, how he was going to dodge so not a single drop of water fell.
Except a few did.
Orochimaru didn’t so much as picked him up, so much as dragged him to the infirmary. Dropping him on a bed, telling Kabuto to play nice , leaving them alone with a chuckle. Sasuke kept his eyes opened, mostly to make sure that the forehead protector stayed on his forehead. At least Kabuto was quiet, as he rolled his sleeve up.
Kabuto pulled on his arm. Tied him to the bed, the shackles lined with soft cloth. “Believe me, it’s for your benefit.”
“How considerate.”
Kabuto chuckled, as he pulled a restrain over his forehead. Another one around his neck. Another one on his other arm. “Can’t hurt Orochimaru-sama’s body permanently, after all.” He held a cloth over his mouth.
A second later, Sasuke bit down on it, glaring. Asshole . Cold air brushed against his arm as Kabuto rolled the sleeve up. From the corner of his vision, he saw Kabuto turn around, walking to a cabinet--out of his vision--until he appeared again, holding a miniature piece of cotton and a needle with clear liquid. Kabuto ran the cotton along his forearm, humming to himself. Probably to annoy him.
“Sasuke-kun? You’re the first test subject, so pay attention to any symptoms,” Kabuto said. “Or the next time you spilled the water, I’ll just make it a little tiny bit less...bearable.”
The needle went into his arm. Sasuke clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to pull his arm away. Kabuto walked to the other side, grabbed his other arm. His pulse. Taking his pulse. Ants crawled up his arm, the needle stuck there, empty, but protruding from the skin. The Sharingan flared to life as a groan bubbled up his throat, suffocated back by the cloth. The Sharingan faded away. His shoulder throbbed, the scorching pain from the seal, as if it was new, as if Sasuke couldn’t control it, as if he was kneeling in the Forest of Death, clutching Sakura’s hand in agony. He pushed his own chakra--
Screamed into the cloth. Something ripped his chest open. Tore his arm off of him. The room bled. No. No. Kabuto wouldn’t destroy Orochimaru’s body like this. No. There was something else. There was a swarm of bees zooming across his face, from one ear to the other, blocking everything else.
Sharingans stared back at him, hovering over his face, spinning on top of--
No! Nothing was there. He knew that. There was nothing. He spat out the gag, biting down on his tongue, his bottom lip, until it bled, and the room lost the red shade, the eyes faded, the bees stopped, the ants paused. His stomach clenched. The restraints were gone. Someone--Kabuto propped him up, tilting his head to the side, holding a clipboard.
“Not bad, Sasuke-kun. I guess next time, I’ll have to properly gag you. That was cheating. Symptoms?”
He glared. It sent painful throbs across his temples. “What did you--”
“Symptoms?”
Sasuke coughed. Blood dripped down his chin. “Murderous rage.”
“Quite hilarious, Sasuke-kun.” He pushed him down. “I guess we need to try again.”
Sasuke shoved him back, getting off the bed. His body swayed, but that was fine. “If you’re working so hard on mimicking a Genjutsu, why not just learn to perform Genjutsu?”
“Such a clever boy, you are, Sasuke-kun. I look forward to seeing you again.”
Sasuke glared, stomped out, closed the door as loud as he could. But in the privacy of his chambers, he placed a cup of water on his head, and practiced.